


Protectress

by downtheroadandupthehill



Series: Best Friends and Better Lovers [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Homophobia, Modern AU, and sexual harassment, but still a fairly light hearted fic in general, trigger warnings for minor violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtheroadandupthehill/pseuds/downtheroadandupthehill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end it’s this:<br/>	Eponine lets Cosette teach her how to be happy, in the little bubble she’s starting to call home. <br/>	But for all that Cosette takes care of Eponine, Eponine takes care of Cosette, too.<br/>	Even if Cosette doesn’t entirely approve of her methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protectress

Her Eponine is as broken as she is beautiful, and even though they’re girlfriends and lovers, Cosette can’t help but to _mother hen_ her from time to time. Chamomile tea in bed, some evenings, and other nights she reads aloud to her from whatever novel she’s plowing through for class now, until they both fall asleep on one another. She bought a nightlight--in the shape of a panda bear--to plug into the wall near the door, no matter how many times Eponine insisted she didn’t want or need one. There were fewer instances of Eponine waking up trembling and groping around for her hand to make sure she was really there, that way. Cosette remembers what that sort of fear is like, from when she was a child, too, and she’s glad they have each other now.

And in return Eponine gives her too-loud laughter and red cheeks and bitten lips and warm, warm hands. She shows her all the violent, poorly acted action movies that Cosette’s father never used to let her watch. She bakes her what she calls her ‘world-famous peanut butter pot brownies’ and on nights like those they fall asleep on the couch, Cosette’s feet in her lap, after mocking hour-long infomercials or picking apart the pornos on late-night paid-cable television. 

On weekends, when Gavroche stays over, he cuddles between them and they marathon _Pokemon_ for hours on end while munching through at least two bags of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets dipped in ranch dressing.

They wear each other’s clothes even though Eponine’s collection of jeans and t-shirts are mostly all far too tight for Cosette. Eponine says she likes how Cosette looks in them, though, and Cosette likes how they smell like Eponine--a combination of roses and smoke--even though Eponine swears she’s quitting soon.

In the end it’s this:

Eponine lets Cosette teach her how to be happy, in the little bubble she’s starting to call _home_. 

But for all that Cosette takes care of Eponine, Eponine takes care of Cosette, too.

Even if Cosette doesn’t entirely approve of her methods.

.....

The first time it happens, it’s summer, and they’re eating ice cream. A cup of red velvet ice cream--Cosette’s favorite--and they’re sharing a plastic spoon. Eponine feeds her every other bite. Classes are out for the season and Eponine has a rare day off work, so they’re taking the time to enjoy it.

She sprawls on the park bench, sundress be damned. “It’s too hot for me. I’m an autumn girl, really.”

While Cosette swallows another proffered bite of ice cream, she can’t help but stare at the sweat trickling down her girlfriend’s cleavage. And Cosette is tempted to agree, it _is_ too hot, particularly since she happens to know a certain someone refused to wear a bra today. But instead she winds her fingers into Eponine’s free hand, and gives her a peck in the corner of her mouth, where a stray bit of pink ice cream lingers. She kisses it away.

“Stick your tongue in her mouth!”

Cosette snaps her head around, and Eponine does likewise. Cosette’s eyes are wide in dismay, but Eponine’s are already narrowed with a combination of suspicion and being _immensely_ pissed-off.

Three men walking past, about their age. Two are smirking, and the third wolf-whistles. Their leers all match, however, and Cosette suddenly wants to cry.

“No need to stop the free show on our account, ladies!” one of them yells.

Cosette is speechless, and she feel her eyes start to well with tears rather against her will, and she can’t quite figure out why she’s so upset--they’re just a bunch of assholes, really, nothing to cry over--and all she can do is stare at them in shock and try very, very hard _not_ to cry.

And then there is Eponine.

“Fuck off!” she shouts back at them. She sets the cup of ice cream in Cosette’s lap, so she has a free hand to flip them off with without letting go of Cosette. And that’s when Cosette realizes just how hard she’s holding onto Eponine, fingernails digging into flesh and all, and she decides to look at their joined hands, instead of staring at the men who won’t stop staring at them. She wants to loosen her grip on Eponine, but she’s shaking too badly and Eponine gives her something safe to cling to as she tries to steady herself.

“You two should fuck each other!” the vocal one retorts, and he and his friends laugh like it’s the cleverest thing they’ve ever heard in their lives. They’re grinning dopey grins, and they don’t appear to be moving on and leaving them the hell alone any time soon.

Eponine snarls, then, and rises to her feet. She shakes her hand from Cosette’s grasp and before Cosette can grab her arm and whisper her plea of _just leave it be_ , Eponine stomps over to the trio. Cosette forces herself to turn her gaze to them, and while she thinks her girlfriend can manage to look imposing even in a yellow sundress and mismatched flip-flops, apparently these douchebags don’t, as they continue chuckling at one another and don’t back away even an inch.

She’s small and skinny, and in front of these three, seems even smaller and skinnier as she stands with hands on her hips and demands in a harsh voice that they “Go. The fuck. Away.” 

“You and your girlfriend need some company?” he--seems like the leader, really, best way to describe his attitude--says, instead of obeying Eponine while he still has the chance to.

Cosette begins to fret, because while she has no doubt that Eponine can fend for herself, there are _three big goons_ versus her adorable-and-scary-when-she’s-mad-yet-painfully-scrawny-girlfriend, and even if Cosette was not entirely too petrified to help, she’d be useless in a physical fight, if it comes to that.

And _it does come to that_ , as she watches Eponine curl her fingers into a fist and _slam that fist right into the asshole’s face_. He hadn’t been expecting it, it seems. He staggers back a few steps and swears, holding onto his jaw where Eponine punched him. His friends can’t seem to figure out if they should stop laughing or not.

It’s not an enormous surprise. Cosette has seen Eponine best Grantaire and Courfeyrac, and--once, when he very much deserved it--Enjolras, so of course she can handle this asshole easily.

But it’s not just one asshole, it’s three of them, and the other two are beginning to look as appalled and angry as their friend, as loathe as they probably are to hit a girl, in their fucked-up sense of “chivalry.” 

“You stupid bitch,” another says.

There’s only a few people in this part of the park: Cosette and Eponine, the assholes, and another couple walking through arm-in-arm. The couple hasn’t stopped, but they’ve turned their heads to watch what’s happening. It’s also midday, sun shining, and Cosette has the sense to slip her cell phone out from her bra, where she’d kept it for safekeeping (damn dresses without pockets.) If it were nightfall, or they were in less of a public place, the group of boys look as though they’d have more to say, or do, to Cosette’s fierce little Eponine.

The one who calls her a bitch makes a move toward her.

Eponine is seething, and she kicks him in the shin. Even though she kicks him hard, it’s about as effective as it can be considering she’s wearing a flat pair of flip-flops. 

Cosette can’t tell if everything is moving in slow-motion, or if it’s all happening too fast for her to do anything but sit there and wring her hands and watch.

That’s when he _pushes_ Eponine to the ground, and Cosette shrieks and scrambles to her feet.

The guys all turn to her, then, and Cosette begins to panic in earnest. Eponine is pushing herself off of the sidewalk-- _thank god_ \--and Cosette, on trembling legs, stumbles over to her.

They must see her cell phone gripped tightly, as they cross their arms collectively over their Ed Hardy douchebag-t-shirts and laugh again, even the one who got punched. The left side of his face is a splotch of red, and she hopes it bruises like hell later on.

“Dumb sluts,” he spits, and walks away, quickly. His friends follow, and Cosette and Eponine watch their retreating backs until it’s clear they don’t plan to come back and harass them further.

“Fucking assholes,” Eponine mutters, her chin held high and defiant.

But Cosette wants to _scream_ , and she nearly does as she shakes her girlfriend’s shoulders. “The hell is wrong with you?” She can’t contain the shrillness in her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Try to start a fight with three guys! What if they decided they really wanted to hurt you? You really think you would’ve been able to handle it? Just let it go!” Cosette’s hands move from Eponine’s shoulders to her arms and then her back, checking for any cuts and bruises from her fall. There are scrapes on her elbows and forearms, and Cosette grits her teeth and inspects them closely, to try and stop herself from yelling further. 

“They started it,” Eponine grumbles, and shakes her head as Cosette tries to brush some dirt from her hair. She doesn’t appear chastised in the least, and if she was anyone but Eponine, Cosette would have to resist an urge to slap her. “I’m not going to sit back and do nothing when people talk to us like that.”

“You’re going to have to unless you want to get yourself truly hurt,” Cosette says. She dabs away at a few spots of blood with her fingertips. “Now let’s get you home. Joly will freak at the meeting tomorrow if he sees I haven’t put any antiseptic on these scratches.”

Eponine snorts despite herself. “Probably will insist we amputate.”

They head for home. Eponine makes a grab for Cosette’s hand, but Cosette bats her away until she begins to pout, and Cosette relents. She kisses her palm, and Cosette struggles not to smile.

.....

It’s a quiet night in, for them, curled on the sofa underneath a thick flannel quilt recovering from the unpleasant excitement of hours ago. Earlier, Cosette covered Eponine’s arms in _My Little Pony_ bandages over top of smeared Neosporin, and Eponine picks idly at them while watching television. It appears her bad reality show obsession this month is _Dance Moms_ , and Cosette concedes that it is at least better than whatever MTV horror it was a few weeks ago. Cosette’s hardly watching though, only glancing up from her book every once in awhile. Every few minutes, her phone gives a little vibrate as she carries on a text conversation.

At a commercial break, Eponine looks over at her curiously. “Who are you texting?”

“No one,” Cosette says sweetly, practiced thumbs moving over the keypad. She smirks at the annoyed slant in Eponine’s eyes as she crawls into her lap to snatch a peek at the phone’s screen.

“Whatcha texting Bahorel about?” she asks. After all, Cosette didn’t try very hard to be sneaky, and she likes Eponine cuddled against her, like this. They bump noses and then foreheads. “Lion kisses!” Eponine squeals. “But really, what’s Bahorel want?”

“I’m making him give you fighting lessons.”

“What?”

“Or boxing lessons. Or brawling. I don’t know. Whatever it is Bahorel does, he’s going to teach you.”

Eponine groans. “Is this about earlier today?”

“Possibly.” Then, more seriously, “If you’re going to pick a fight with everyone who makes a comment about us in public, I’m at least going to make sure you don’t get hurt defending us.”

Eponine raises her eyebrows in response.

Cosette rolls her eyes. “Oh, I know you had that _thing_ with Bahorel a while back, but this won’t be weird, will it?” _Not nearly as weird as listening to the two of you have probably the loudest sex in the world,_ Cosette thinks. Bahorel and Marius had lived together, last year, and she remembers the phase in which Eponine used Bahorel to make Marius--and then Cosette--jealous. But she already feels herself blushing at the memory, and Eponine grins and nuzzles into her neck.

“Trust me, if you’re recruiting Bahorel to teach me proper self-defense, that’s all that’s going to happen.” She murmurs against Cosette’s collarbone and brushes gentle fingers across the waistband of her pajama pants. 

“Bahorel was nice when I was lonely, but I’m not lonely anymore.”


End file.
